


you can bring a horse to water

by iwillwalk500miles



Series: Genesis' White Rose Week Prompts for 2020!! [4]
Category: RWBY
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Feelings, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, POV Second Person, Pining, Present Tense, Ruby Rose (RWBY) Needs a Hug, Secret Relationship, Useless Lesbians, White Rose Week 2020 (RWBY), and they were roommates (oh god they were roommates), i tried to do fluff and failed, i'm experimenting leave me alone, oblivious gays, poor girl i didn't mean to make her suffer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:09:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24226381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillwalk500miles/pseuds/iwillwalk500miles
Summary: (White Rose Week 2020: secret relationship)Your imagination runs wild, and you can’t stop thinking about it, what it would be like to press your lips to her, to run your hands through her hair, to run your fingers through her hair even though you know they'll come away damp from her shower. You can't stop thinking about it, can’t stop wondering what it would be like, getting to feel your lips on hers while you catch a whiff of vanilla perfume and taste the mint of her toothpaste. The idea indents itself into your mind, branding itself in your head as though you were always meant to imagine it.You blink, staring (staring staring staring—) and blurt, “Your hair is really pretty.”Weiss blinks, and you find yourself blinking back. For a moment you think that is all that will happen to the two of you today, blinking at each other in some silent war like cats, telepathically fighting a battle that neither of you knew anything about.Or;Ruby can't handle the idea of people thinking that she and Weiss are in some sort of secret relationship. (Mainly because she might actually maybe possibly be totally and entirely in love with her.)
Relationships: Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Series: Genesis' White Rose Week Prompts for 2020!! [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1776382
Comments: 38
Kudos: 183





	you can bring a horse to water

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be cute

You hadn’t meant to. It’s the first thing that runs through your head, stapling itself in your mind and branding the thought into the back of your eyelids. It feels like you have to remember that little fact, the way that _you hadn’t meant to_. It practically feels like a staple now, something that would always be in the back of your mind, infecting everything it touches because you know that _you hadn't meant to_.

But, and you don’t know if it’s unfortunate or not, you did it anyway.

There is probably a rule somewhere, hidden away in some sacred book with fancy gold pages that reads:

_DO NOT FALL IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND._

It was probably written just like that, in big bold letters—maybe underlined a couple of times and circled to show its importance. But you have a feeling, and you aren’t biased in any way at all, that this particular rule was broken more than it was followed. And it isn’t necessarily the thousands of books and movies and comic books that you’ve watched and read religiously that makes you think that way.

It’s more like you see these things in the media, right? And you go, _Oh, that’s not gonna happen to me! My best friend and I aren’t like that—why is this popular?_ And then you turn around and see it suddenly happening everywhere around you, which is weird, because the way Dad had explained it all (love and sex and friendship) was that best friends you fell in love with were only common when unrequited.

(But you think that’s just his way of warning you to be careful with your feelings, so you didn’t mind him bashing that sense of romance so much.)

Anyway, the whole point of this is that you didn’t mean to fall in love with her. It just... well it just _happened_. It wasn’t like the movies, wasn’t some dramatic fall from grace—wasn’t like you had wax wings burned off of your body, wasn’t like you were boiling with a need to be near her, wasn’t like it was a constant constant _constant_ stream of emotion.

It was more you were led to it, falling in love. It was like someone gently pressing a hand to your shoulder to move you, entirely of your own will, to somewhere else. 

It was almost funny, the moment you realized you were in love with her, it was the morning just after you turned twenty. She’d come to wake you up, her arms crossed and her pretty pretty hair pulled into a damp ponytail. Some of her skin was still flushed from a morning shower, and her clothes (perfect and pressed) are clinging to her in a way that makes something in your stomach swoop. Her eyes were blazing, ice and diamond and all sorts of different types of blues that seemed to embody her—cold and hard and beautiful—but there was that strange softness in them, that lingering gentleness that had always been there when she looked at you.

“Get up.” She had hissed, surging into your room and wrenching the curtains open, a movement that isn’t as annoying as usual for one reason or another. “We’re going to be late if you don’t get your lazy, good for nothing—”

And then it’s like, _oh wait a second I want to kiss you._

Your imagination runs wild, and you can’t stop thinking about it, what it would be like to press your lips to her, to run your hands through her hair, to run your fingers through her hair even though you know they'll come away damp from her shower. You can't stop thinking about it, can’t stop wondering what it would be like, getting to feel your lips on hers while you catch a whiff of vanilla perfume and taste the mint of her toothpaste. The idea indents itself into your mind, branding itself in your head as though you were always meant to imagine it.

You blink, staring ( _staring staring staring_ —) and blurt, “Your hair is really pretty.”

Weiss blinks, and you find yourself blinking back. For a moment you think that is all that will happen to the two of you today, blinking at each other in some silent war like cats, telepathically fighting a battle that neither of you knew anything about.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere.” Weiss says flatly, though there is something strangled in her tone, her teeth grit and brows furrowed. “Now get dressed.” She snapped, and left in a huff, nearly slamming the door behind her. 

But you don’t mind.

A shuddering sigh leaves your mouth, and you find that you can’t get her face out of your thoughts—can’t block out her smile or her scar or her laugh or the bad jokes that slip from her mouth—all of it condensing into one great day dream of _Weiss_. It sits on your chest, but it doesn’t weigh you down much—it’s like it was always there and you were only just realizing it in that moment. 

“Oh.” You whisper quietly to yourself, running a hand through your hair with a sigh. “Now what?”

* * *

At first it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t like anything was different on the outside, you still talked to Weiss just like you did before, still jumped on her and pulled pranks and bickered and laughed—but all of it, every single second you spent with her was cherished in a way you hadn’t realized before now. You think that maybe you spent too much time watching Blake and Yang proclaim they were best friends while dancing around each other, because it felt like every longing look they shot each other was mirrored on your end to Weiss.

It probably wasn’t such a good idea to learn about how to be a best friend from your older sister. (Who was notoriously head over heels for _her_ best friend.)

So _maybe_ you were pining, and that was okay! It wasn’t _so_ bad, it was only like there was a warm feeling in your chest when Weiss looked at you that made it hard to think sometimes. And okay, maybe it was a _little_ bad because you and Weiss tended to spend a lot of time together, because that’s what roommates _did_. It wasn’t like you could stop talking over washing dishes, and it wasn’t as though you could tear yourself away from her when she rambled on about her interests, and it wasn’t like you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring the pale freckles sprinkled across her nose, or the curve of her mouth, or the—

(Wow, why are you only _just_ realizing you were in love with her? You did all of these things before and remained blissfully oblivious until you realized that kissing her sounded like a good time.)

But anyway, she was always on your mind nowadays, the thought of seeing her warming you up something fierce. 

It was starting to have a lasting impact on your day to day life.

You were definitely getting distracted _way_ easier than before. (And it had already been pretty easy for your mind to wander before it had some place to go.) You found yourself forgetting school work, classes, anything and everything in between—you even found yourself forgetting little things you’d planned with your friends. It was embarrassing, losing your sense of time and space because of a pretty girl.

(Actually, Weiss wasn’t just a pretty girl, she was _Weiss_ —and that meant more to you than you were comfortable admitting.)

The first time someone makes the mistake of thinking that you two are a couple, you’re both sitting in a booth in one of your favorite diners and Weiss is ranting about her chemistry professor. You don’t really get what she’s saying because even though you’re a STEM student you fall more on the engineering side of things. So, deciding to let Weiss rant, you lean on the palm of your hand—nodding at the appropriate places and staring at her like she hung the moon.

(Which, really, you probably shouldn’t have been so obvious.)

It isn’t such a significant interaction, just a waitress saying something like _‘have a nice date’_ but it sticks with you. 

Was it possible that the waitress had been picking up on your obvious feelings for Weiss? Could it have been that you had been so sickeningly in love with your best friend that anyone could tell with a single glance? Could it be that Weiss might know how you feel?

(Could it be that you’re overthinking this?)

You don’t know, and that scares you more than you thought you’d ever want to admit, terrifies you in such a way that your breath stutters in your lungs. It’s almost as though something is pulling you away from your body, up and up and up—away from Weiss’ smile and her eyes and the love you have for her because guilt and fear seep from your body and form a wall in between you two. And it’s like everything is on the other side of it, your heart and her—positioned differently from where _you_ are, like you’re watching the way your love for Weiss swells in her presence, watching the way you’ve fallen in love, and can’t _do_ anything about it.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this way before, not _this_ intensely, not for someone so _close_ to you.

(And you’d like to say it one more time, how scary this is—how every move you make feels you with a type of fear that you’ve never felt before, a fear that comes with love.)

* * *

“You’ve been weird lately.” Blake says, and her eyes are doing that scrunch thing, the one that means she’s scrutinizing—( _you learned that word from Weiss_ )—someone. 

“What?” You blink rapidly, trying not to crumble under the weight of her eyes. This was the first time you’d seen Blake in a little over a week—you kept forgetting to meet her. You were kind of proud of yourself for remembering that you’d agreed to lunch today, that meant you were getting better at balancing your thoughts about Weiss and your thoughts about everything else.

“Dazed, confused, weirdly sheepish, and worried all rolled into one distinct facial expression.” Blake frowns at you, tilting her head in that way you know that Yang (because she couldn't keep her mouth shut to save her life) thought was cute. “Spill.”

“I—no?” You say back to her, but it comes out like a question. It isn't exactly a lie, your honestly a little confused by what she means. “I haven’t done anything?”

“Spill.” She repeats easily, her eyes narrowed.

“Blake c’mon—”

“Spill.” She says with more force.

You let out a puff of breath, blowing a bit of your bangs out of your face. “You can’t just say spill over and over again and expect me to—”

“ _Spill_.”

“I’m in love with Weiss.” You blurt out immediately after. You blink, slapping a hand over your mouth with wide eyes. You'd forgotten that was bothering you, and your left temporarily marveling at Blake. (You absentmindedly wonder if she's a magician.)

Blake didn’t move, not pausing from stirring some sugar into her tea. “...was this not previously known information?”

“I—what?” You ask, tripping over your words. The way she had asked that was full of this sense of _knowing_ and it set you immediately on edge, your knee bouncing up in down as a response to your stress.

“Aren’t you both dating?” Blake tilts her head, looking suddenly very disgruntled.

“ _Huh_!?” Escapes your mouth a bit too loud, if Blake flinching backward said anything about it. You grimace apologetically, but you can’t muster up the words for a real apology as you try and process what she had just said.

You and Weiss? _Dating_? In an _actual_ romantic relationship?

_Is that what everyone thought you were?_

Blake sighs, “You don’t have to pretend anymore, you know, Yang and I figured it out a while back, I don’t understand why you wanted to keep it a secret—”

“What?! No, no, _no_ —” You waved your arms in front of yourself frantically, nearly knocking over your strawberry soda. “I’m, we’re—” You felt your face flush deeply, and you slumped forward trying to hide your obvious embarrassment. “You guys thought we were... _dating_?”

“Yes.” Blake answers nodding, her lips pursing as she averts her gaze. “It seemed as though it was obvious... Yang noticed how you’d been acting, and I noticed that Weiss seemed overly fond of you.” Blake tries for a smile, but it comes out kind of weak. “Are you really not dating? You two live together, and you always shoot each other those _looks_.”

“No! _No_ , Blake we aren’t dating!” You yell out, not noticing the odd looks you receive from everyone else in the cafe. 

“Are you sure?” She raises a brow.

“Yes! _Yes_ , I’m sure!” You say, an odd whimper leaving your mouth, something between embarrassed and sad. (A realization that makes you inwardly frown.)

Blake watches you, her gaze far too knowing than you're comfortable with, and it's hard to sit without squirming. Her eyes glitter in the light of the cafe, and she blinks slowly—as though she was trying to come to terms with the information she had just been told. “Let me go over this one more time.” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “The both of you _aren’t_ dating?”

“I think I’d know if we were!” You snap back defensively, your voice high and shrill. You blink, and with resounding horror realize that you’d reacted in a way that _Weiss_ would have.

(Did you seriously pick up one of her behaviors? It wasn’t so odd to unknowingly copy something from the people you care about, but it felt so different somehow, now that you knew how you felt.)

“Hmm.” Blake’s lips twist, the curve of her mouth wobbling as she struggles not to smile. She averts her gaze, though the amusement on her face is as clear as day to you, the creases in her cheeks not at all that subtle. 

“What’s with that face!?” You ask, horrified. It was like she found the whole situation _funny_ or something—and it _wasn’t_. You were in love with Weiss and clearly it was so obvious that everyone had picked up on it—that people had assumed you were dating because of it.

Suddenly it all just sort of clicks for you, Pyrrha’s teasing smiles after practice when you say you have to go meet Weiss. Neptune apologizing to you out of the blue one day—assuring you that he had no intention of ‘swooping in’. Jaune grinning at you when you canceled plans in order to stay home, waving you off in a way that seemed almost too enthusiastic. The way Sun eyed you when you first met him, watching you with serious eyes, before nodding resolutely and shooting you and Weiss a thumbs up. Yang taking you aside, patting you on the back and reassuring you that you could trust her with anything.

You wonder for a moment if Weiss knew this, or if she had been just as oblivious as you were.

Blake cuts off your thoughts with a gentle cough, making your head snap toward her. “But you both act like you’re dating...” She pauses, trailing off and gazing away, her eyes going hazy as she becomes consumed by her thoughts. “Could it be you’re both oblivious to your real feelings?” It sounds like she’s asking herself the question instead of you.

“Blake!” You whine, “This isn’t one of your books!”

“Okay, so it’s obvious that the two of you are obviously _‘yearning’_ for each other—”

“Why is yearning in finger quotes?” You interrupt cluelessly.

“—and everyone knows that you’re dating except for the two of you...” A disgruntled puff of air escapes her lips. “That sounds about right.” Blake sighs, leaning back a little as she purses her lips. “I really wish I hadn’t called off that bet right about now.”

“Bet?” You ask, frowning. “You made a—”

“Are you going to tell her how you feel?” She cuts you off before you can finish, effectively distracting you.

“What?” You blank for a moment, “Of course not.” But the words feel wrong. “Yes.” You try instead, realizing that saying that _also_ felt wrong. “No, I dunno—maybe.” You grimace, burying your head in your hands and tugging at your hair. A groan leaves your lips. “I don’t know what to do.”

Blake sighs. “Ruby.”

“No, Blake.” You say, straightening up and forcing a smile on your unwilling face. “I’ll figure it out later, right now I just want to catch up with you.”

She watches you, clearly disbelieving, but allows you to change the subject.

* * *

“Blake told me you and Weiss weren’t dating.” Yang says, crossing her arms and frowning. “Is she playing a prank on me again?”

“No, Yang.” You wince, shifting away from her and rocking back on the balls of your feet while trying to avoid eye-contact. Ren and Nora were holding a small (actually quite big, but Nora used the word small and you decided you were better off using it too) party and your sister had managed to corner you as soon as Weiss had left your side to go talk to Sun. “We aren’t dating.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me right now.” Yang says, eyeing you for a moment. She gestures to you a little spastically, something that she actually picked up from you. “You’re totally pranking me right now.”

You look at your sister for a moment, taking in how she was looking at you in disbelief, and wonder how she'd allowed herself to jump to the conclusion that you and Weiss were a thing. Could it have been possible that she saw something you didn't? Somehow you doubted it, she must have just picked up on your feelings and assumed.

(You forced yourself to ignore how that didn't really make sense either.)

“No, Yang.” You sigh, keeping your gaze away from hers. You don’t know how to face your sister, not like this—not with the idea that she had believed that you and Weiss had been... a thing, that the two of you had been _involved_ and Yang had apparently been all for it. Or at least, supportive enough to make a bet with Blake about it.

“Rabies—”

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

“—that’s _unbelievable_ to me, you know that right?” Yang smiles, the one she uses when she’s confused and annoyed—the one with the strained edges and pursed lips.

“ _How_ is it unbelievable!?” You ask her, accidentally snapping and making her blink back at you in surprise. You grimace, shutting your eyes and taking a deep breath. “I never told you that I was in a relationship with anyone.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Yang says, looking uncomfortable for a moment. “But like, your pining was off the charts, Rubles—even _Sun_ noticed.”

“He thinks me and Weiss are dating too?” You ask morosely.

“Ha, yeah.” 

“Ugh.” You bury your face in your hands, overcome by the sudden urge to start crying. 

“Oop, here comes your not-girlfriend.” Yang chirps into your ear.

Sure enough, you peek through your fingers to find Weiss making her way over to the both of you. She looks pretty, you think quietly to yourself, her hair still in the sloppy braid you had insisted you do for her and her body clad in a Beacon hoodie she’d stolen from you, her pale gray skirt fluttering about just above her knees.

_She’s pretty._

It was _so_ unfair.

“Is your sister making you cry again, Ruby?” Weiss asks, the soft laugh that leaves her mouth so melodic for a second you weren’t so sure if she’d been singing or not.

Yang, noticing your sudden flushed cheeks, is quick to divert attention off of her. “Hey! I get to make Rabies cry all I want—”

An anguished whine leaves your throat at that.

“—it’s like the big sister code, right?” Yang asks, nudging you with her elbow. You nearly sprawl forward, only just managing to stop yourself from falling over because of the hand that Weiss presses to your shoulder. “Doesn’t Winter do the same?”

“No.” Weiss says flatly with a roll of her eyes, turning to you and straightening your clothing. You look down at her hands, smoothing out your jacket and shirt, hearing her mumble something about Yang being stupid as she yanks on your collar one more time. “There.” She nods, taking a step back to admire her handiwork.

Your sister shoots you a smug look, and you glower weakly at her.

“Aww.” Yang starts loudly, making Weiss jump a little bit closer toward you. “I’ll make you cry more Weiss, to make up for the lack of big sister induced tears.” She makes a pouty face, pressing her hands to her cheeks and making kissy noises that results in a look like death passing over your best friend's face.

“I will actually _kill_ —”

“‘Kay good talk!” Yang exclaims, pretending like she doesn’t see the look on Weiss’ face. She shoves your shoulder a little, flicking your forehead in the way she does when she thinks you’re overthinking something. “See you later Rabies, Ice Queen.”

“Good riddance!” Weiss calls after her, and Yang’s booming laughter is a nice balm to your unease. She turns back to face you, her eyes sparkling in that way that came with when she and Yang bantered, and the words ‘I love you’ have never been more true. “Did she actually make you cry?”

“No.” You manage out with a sheepish laugh, rubbing at the back of your neck and stubbornly trying to keep eye-contact with her. “She was just teasing me about some stuff, it was really embarrassing.”

“Being near you is embarrassing.” Weiss says, but you know she’s joking because of the slanted smile that appears on her face. “Now follow along, Sun says he has something to give us.” She reaches down, taking your hand in hers, and tugs you along to find your friend.

She leads you, and despite everything inside of you crashing with the overwhelming toll of your love, you willingly find yourself following.

* * *

Things get harder. It isn’t as though you didn’t think they would get easier, it wasn't as though you hadn’t realized that being in love with Weiss was going to get difficult the longer you were unable to express your feelings, but the difficulty of everything overwhelms you. Falling in love with Weiss had been as easy as breathing, a careful hand tugging you to a pool of water and suggesting you drink. 

But keeping a lid on those feelings, preventing yourself from telling her, was wildly different—it was like something was holding your head underwater, keeping you from breathing. Like the air was expressing your love for her, admitting to her that you loved her so much you forgot what it was like not to be breathless near her. Unfortunately, you were drowning in a pool of your own making, keeping your head stubbornly underwater for fear that the air you might come to breath in was poisonous.

Things get harder.

“You want to _what_?” The words leave Weiss’ mouth in a flurry of pure disbelief, her eyes wide—the sharpness of the blue shining against her pale face. 

“Um...” You shift, averting your gaze, because even now you think she is beautiful. “I thought it might be a good idea?” It comes out lamely, a pitiful question that makes you wince.

“Ruby, please.” Weiss is pinching the bridge of her nose, and there’s a look on her face that’s unreadable to you.

It makes you panic.

“Okay so... uh...” You stumble over your words all the time, but it feels different now—when you have something important that you need to say. “So—”

“Can you _please_ tell me why you want to move out?” Weiss’ tone was unexpectedly vulnerable, and it made you regret everything immediately. “Did... is something wrong?” _Did I do something wrong?_

“No, no, no!” You hastened to reassure her, scrambling over the couch and nearly tripping over the coffee table in an effort to get where Weiss was standing. “That’s not it at all—”

“Then why?” Weiss asks, looking utterly perplexed, an expression that makes your chest ache with your unresolved feelings.

“It’s just...” You groan over your words, rubbing at your face and looking away from her. “I feel like...”

“What’s the matter?” Weiss asks, and her voice is softer now. She takes a hesitant step towards you, moving her hand as though to reach out to you—but stops, her arm dropping back to her side.

“I think I—” And you just _can’t_ get the words out, they get lodged in your throat, sticking at odd angles inside you and preventing anything but muffled whines from escaping. “I get distracted.” It’s a wonder you even managed to blurt it out with the way your body is so _insistent_ on you not talking.

“What?” Weiss recoils a bit. “ _Distracted_?”

“ _Yes_.” You cry out, and the corners of your eyes are beginning to sting now. “I can’t live here anymore because I get distracted, and now I’m behind on my homework and Blake is getting worried about me for forgetting lunch dates and—”

“Wait, wait.” Weiss holds up the palm of her hand, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Hold on a second.”

“Okay.” You squeak out, thankful that she’s stopped you from rambling.

“What do you _mean_ you’re distracted?” She sounded utterly perplexed. “How does that happen? And also, what does having to _move out_ have to do with anything?”

“I uh... when...” You’re stumbling still, and it feels like you’re falling over—like the words that refuse to leave your mouth are weighing you down. “It’s the walls!” You blurt.

“The... walls?” Now, Weiss only looks more confused.

“Yes, they uh... they remind me of... something blue and I get really distracted! So I’m moving out!” You think for a moment, and then nod resolutely. “...yeah.”

(Because the walls actually _did_ distract you sometimes, they were the same shade of the flecks of blue in Weiss’ eyes, and that made you think of her—made you think of the creases under them when she smiles, of her face—of her laugh. It was like a spiral of thoughts, a landslide picking up more and more things to take with it, starting with the blue of Weiss’ eyes and ending with the overwhelming love that you had for her.)

“Ruby that doesn’t make any _sense_.”

“It _does_.” Because it did. To you, at least.

Weiss lets out a strangled sound in the back of her throat, and she’s got that annoyed/angry expression on her face you know she uses to hide when she’s bothered by something. “Oh, then what do they remind you of, since they’re _so_ distracting? Honestly, if you don’t want to live with me anymore than just _tell_ me—”

“Your eyes.” You blurt out, because your self control is in shambles at this point.

“What?” Weiss recoils.

“They remind me of your eyes.” You say again, your voice surprisingly steady considering you’re so embarrassed you feel like you’re going to explode.

Your cheeks are red, and your eyes are still stinging, and it feels like any second now tears will blur your vision of Weiss in front of you—staring with her mouth agape and the tips of her ears flushed.

“Why... why is that a _distraction_ exactly?” She asks you, and it’s almost desperate, before she shakes her head, a stubborn motion. “No matter, if it really bothers you we could always paint the walls a different shade.” Weiss froze, as though the words hadn’t meant to come out of her mouth. 

It makes you want to go closer to her, to wrap her in your arms, to do anything it takes to cheer her up because you _love_ her and she shouldn’t be sad. But you find yourself unable to move forward, unable to comfort her.

She swallows audibly, looking down at her feet and crossing her arms protectively around herself. “That’s if... well, I suppose you said you want to move out, didn’t you? Well, if you must...” Her expression was dazed. “I—I am going to retire early today.”

“No, wait—”

“What?” Her words were frosty, and it strikes you in the chest like an icicle, it sends a shiver down your spine and you think that you are finally beginning to cry now.

“I get distracted by thoughts of you.” You admit, and you aren’t blubbering exactly but your voice is filled with that shakiness people get right before they burst into tears.

“...what?” And Weiss sounds different than before but you don’t notice because your eyes are burning, burning, _burning_ —

“I sit down to do my homework and then I look up at the apartment and see you everywhere—I see you in the kitchen and the living room and those weirdly expensive ice creams you like and it’s like all of a sudden I can’t _stop_ seeing you—you live in the weird matching mugs you bought for us, live in the throw pillows on the couch that you insisted for some reason that we buy, live in the corner of my eyes—every thought I’ve been having lately is something about _you_. You live in my mind and I can’t get you _out_.” You ramble out, your words sloppy and unorganized and almost nonsensical but from the look on her face you think that Weiss understands somehow anyway.

“Ruby...” She says, so softly that there is nothing to stop the tears from fully streaming down your cheeks now.

“I can’t get you out of my head, Weiss.” You admit, a pained whimper. “It’s like even when I close my eyes the only thing I see is you and suddenly I want things I don’t understand.”

Hands are cupping your cheeks suddenly, thumbs carefully brushing away the wetness that streams from your eyes. Your vision clears and she is staring at you with tears that match yours and all you can thinks is— _no no no, Weiss is crying, Weiss shouldn’t be crying, I made Weiss cry_ —

“You are _such_ an idiot.” She whispers softly, looking down, away from you as her shoulders shook with the weight of something that you couldn’t see.

“I’m sorry.” You sob a little, “I didn’t mean to—”

“You love me, right?” Weiss asks, her voice soft and quiet. She looks back up at you, her face open and vulnerable and so _desperate_ that your head spins a little. “You love me? That’s what you’re trying to say, right?”

_Yes-yes-I-love-you-I-love-you-so-much-please-I’m-so-sorry_ —

“Yeah.” You manage to choke out, closing your eyes. “I’m sorry.” And it’s suddenly like you’re desperate to say it aloud, and it’s like you can’t stop your mouth from moving when you go— “I love you, I love you, I _love_ you—” The words murmured against the palms of Weiss’ hands, still on your cheeks and still brushing away tears.

“Ruby.” Weiss whispers, a soft wanting sound that makes you want to cry out. You feel her forehead press against yours. “Please, please look at me.” She says against you, her breath on your face. “Please.”

And you can’t find it in yourself to refuse her. 

You don’t expect her tears even though you know that she had been crying the same as you. You want to reach up and wipe them away, to hold her face in your palms like she was doing to you, but you were so desperately _afraid_.

“I love you.” Your voice is a gasp against her, your noses brushing together as your eyes grow wide. “I love you.”

“I didn’t know.” She whispers, soft and quiet. “I didn’t know you loved me the same.”

And you want to cry out. You had spent so long thinking that you were obvious, that Weiss was just kind enough not to say anything, but she truly hadn’t known. You blink, and the rest of what she says sinks in. You’re moving with a type of strength you didn’t know you had, your hands wrapping around her elbows as tears still stream down your face. You can touch her now, you think, if she really feels the same you can touch her now.

“I love you.” You murmur against her lips.

“I love you.” She repeats, over and over and _over_ again. “I love you, I love you, I—"

You don’t know if you cut her off or she cuts herself off, because suddenly your mouths are pressed together, and your faces are slick with tears and it’s a little messy and gross but you _love_ her and you can’t find it in you to mind. She laughs into it, choked by her sobs and holding desperately to your cheeks—her grip so soft and gentle it almost hurts to be held in it. Your arms wrap around her back and she’s kissing you again, and it’s bliss almost. 

She clutches you desperately, her arms wrapping around your neck and one of her hands going into your hair, tugging it slightly. The two of you kiss like it’s the last one you’ll ever have between you two, and it’s almost funny considering the fact that it’s your first one. A constant push and pull, a press of her hand to your shoulder makes you draw her waist closer to you—the pads of her fingers on your jaw, your fingers splayed on the small of her back. Your kiss is a constant reaction to the movements the two of you make, and it’s an almost poetic thing to think of as she kisses you, as you kiss her.

(As you kiss each other.)

“You love me.” She says, a gasping, shuddering breath against your mouth. She says it like she can’t believe it and you feel like _you’re_ the one who should be in disbelief because you spent all this _time_ thinking that she would never feel the same. And it occurs to you then that it must have been the same for her when it came to her feelings for _you_.

“Yes.” You whisper, reaching up and pushing your fingers through her hair because it was one of the first things you wanted to do ever since you realized you loved her. The snowy white locks of hair are soft against your skin, and the way she looks with her bangs pushed back by your hand is more than a little sinful. “And you love me.” 

“Undoubtedly.” Weiss murmurs, leaning into your touch. “No question.”

“Awesome.” You grin, a wide, bright thing even if your cheeks are still stained with the mixture of both of your tears. “That’s really _really_ awesome.”

“Yes,” Weiss murmurs, right before she draws you into another kiss. “I suppose it is.”

**Author's Note:**

> it took me a minute to start enjoying the process of writing this one ngl. (also, that final scene, just like... everything about it i have been entirely and totally in enamored with, ruby's confession of love just makes me feel soft)
> 
> anyway if you've read my other second povs (like my arkos works or even the lis one i really have to update soon) it doesn't come to much of a shock that i really really enjoy writing stories in this pov, though it's a bit of a doozy sometimes


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